


like a powerful drug (i can't get enough of)

by montecarlos



Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Chases, M/M, Minor Character Death, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: Valentino was right, Jorge Lorenzo was heading into a bordering country - but Dani wonders why he would be in plain sight, it’s as though he wanted to be seen.As he glances down at the cards written in red ink, he realises that Lorenzo wanted to be seen - and he wants Dani to be the one to chase him.
Relationships: Jorge Lorenzo/Dani Pedrosa, Marc Marquez/Valentino Rossi, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	like a powerful drug (i can't get enough of)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was again written in two days because I am insane, and also because it came to me like at 2am in the morning - hey, a Killing Eve AU sounds kinda good right? And well, writing Jorge Lorenzo as a gay male version of Villanelle was too good of an opportunity to waste. It turned into this monster, which required a shitload of research for me to correctly map Jorge's journey between European countries. There's a lot more potential here than I anticipated, but I chose to streamline the story and give a open ending that is up to the reader to interpret however they would like. 
> 
> A few warnings here for character death, strangulation and stabbing. I've tried to limit the violence as best as I can but here's your warning for it. Title taken from Addicted to You by Avicii, because Jorge and Dani were giving me Bonnie and Clyde vibes. 
> 
> This fic is for J, my best friend, my best bro. You mean so much to me, thank you for everything you do for me and for always putting a smile on my face. I hope you enjoy this small token to appreciate all you do for me.

Vienna is cold at this time of year - certainly when he’s used to warmer climates, but he had to leave his homeland again. He’s never stayed in one place longer than a month or two, he’s been here in the Austrian capital for three weeks and he knows that it is time to move on. Placing the cappuccino down on the table in front of him, he surveys the people who walk past, going about their daily business, murmuring to one another in German before his eyes are drawn towards another figure sitting a few feet away. They look fairly innocuous to anyone else, but not to him - he can see the outline of the weapon, just visible through their thick coat. His other features are fairly nondescript, his hair covered by a wooly hat to draw minimal attention. But he knows the man isn’t here for coffee. The man is here to kill him.  
  
He throws a few coins down on the table, enough to pay for the drink before he slowly stands up, tugging on his scarf. It’s growing colder, the darkness of the late evening beginning to sink in. He walks away, knowing that the other man is copying his actions. The smirk finds its way onto his lips, as he continues to walk up the street. He doesn’t have to look behind to know he is being followed, he just knows. It’s easy enough to slip down the alleyway, like he has done several times in the past, hearing the footsteps grow nearer and nearer as he approaches the end of the alleyway.  
  
“I’ve been expecting you,” He says, glancing at the bricks in front of him, littered with various murals, both in German and English, names, tags, remnants of a time gone by. He never leaves his own marks, he can’t afford to. “Took you a little longer than usual to find me,”  
  
“You’re a difficult man to find,”  
  
He smiles as he turns around slowly, facing the other man, his fingers slowly pulling at his scarf to loosen it. “I know,” He murmurs as he steps forward. “I’m an even more difficult man to kill,”  
  
He surges forward, the scarf twisting itself between his fingers. It’s easy enough to pull it taut enough on the man’s windpipe, cutting off his oxygen supply. It takes about four to five minutes to strangle someone to death, ensuring that the trachea is completely closed off. The man fights it but the inevitable happens.  
  
“I won’t be the last, Lorenzo,”  
  
He smiles as the man sinks to the ground, the life drained out of him. He pulls his scarf back around his own neck, tugging on the knot a little tighter than usual as he steps over the body of the man and leaves the alleyway. He has to leave Vienna tonight, it’s no longer safe. 

* * *

  
  
The phone blares out in the middle of the night, and Dani blinks the sleep away from his eyes to grab it from the bedside table. His eyes flicker over to the alarm clock next to him, the red numbers reading 1.32AM.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“He was in Vienna like we suspected,” Valentino cuts to the chase. He’s never been one for awkward conversations and apologies. “But I assume he has left. Austrian police found the agent in an alleyway about half an hour ago, they reckon he has been dead for about six hours before he was found,”  
  
Dani curses under his breath. “I’m on my way,”  
  
He ends the call and reluctantly pulls himself out of the bed, pulling on the nearest shirt that he finds. It’s a little creased, and he’s sure that he wore the same one a few days ago, but he brushes away the thought as he pulls on his trousers. Snagging his car keys from the bowl, he gets into his car, glancing up at the sky, still dark and shining with stars. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he starts the car and turns on the radio.  
  
It takes about ten minutes for him to get to the office, and when he arrives, Valentino is waiting. There’s a few other people still working in the office, monitoring other targets and marks, their voices soft and slow, speaking not only in Spanish, but an array of different languages. Valentino acknowledges him with a small nod before they move into his office, Dani’s eyes immediately going towards the pinboard that the older man has had up for months as he places the folder down on his desk.  
  
“Sit,”  
  
Dani sinks into his own chair opposite as Valentino flicks open the file, pulling out the photographs that lay on the top. “These were taken yesterday evening, at the Café Laudtmann at around 7pm,”  
  
Dani raises an eyebrow as he glances down at the photographs, taking in the dark hair that is now bleached blonde and the piercing green eyes that he has now committed to memory. “He’s changed,” He comments as he carefully looks through the images.  
  
His dark eyes take in the leather jacket, the scarf that is always tightly knotted around his neck, the finger on his left hand that is missing the tip - he knows all these details about Jorge Lorenzo, but he’s never met the man, the man who is considered the most dangerous man in Europe, the man with a higher kill count than some of their agents. When Dani had been approached to begin working on the case alongside Valentino, he assumed that it would be over within a few months. However, the pinboard had only continued to grow in size, the red threads soon becoming a tangle of cities, names and locations. Jorge Lorenzo was not a typical assassin. He blended in, not because he changed his appearance every five minutes, but because he looked so ordinary and unremarkable. His ability to look so unassuming was his true power.  
  
“Agent tailed him after he left the café, only to be led down an alleyway and communication was lost,” Valentino pauses for a moment. “We are waiting on the autopsy, but we assume that it was a signature killing. Eyewitness police statements say that he had visible bruising around his neck,”  
  
Dani is silent as he glances between the photographs of Lorenzo sitting in the café, the scarf around his neck hanging innocuously to the pinboard photographs of the bruises on bodies left behind in the assassin’s wake. “He’s probably already left Vienna,”  
  
Valentino nods. “We assume that Bratislava may be his next destination, based on proximity. We all know that people like him like to hide in plain sight,”  
  
“I don’t think he will go to Bratislava,” Dani replies. “It’s too obvious,” He places the photographs back down on the desk and moves towards the pinboard. “If we look at his movements over the past few months, he’s gone from Switzerland to Finland and then into Austria. He never goes into the neighbouring country, it’s not in his modus operandi,”  
  
“That’s true. We have pulled up all the avenues in and out of Austria within the last few hours but we haven’t seen anything yet. We checked all the air traffic passenger lists and none of his known aliases are on there, we are in the process of checking the train station surveillance tapes and the major exit points from the country,”  
  
Dani purses his lips. They’ve done this before, only for it to lead nowhere, but it must be done. There’s the chance that Lorenzo has slipped up for once, and although the chance is slim, they must take it. His eyes slowly move across the board, taking in the photographs, the newspaper cuttings, the memos written in Valentino’s chicken scratch handwriting. “Any ideas of his next target?”  
  
“No intel at the moment,”  
  
Dani curses under his breath. “I’m going to go comb through the CCTV around the area, maybe he was caught on camera and it was missed-”  
  
Valentino opens his mouth as though to argue, but he thinks better of it. Since he had brought Dani onboard with the Lorenzo case, the younger man has developed somewhat of an obsession with bringing the man to justice. Dani was the one who had so far managed to find out the most information, having discovered Lorenzo’s real name a few months into the case. However, since that point, they’ve been involved in a cat and mouse chase with the Majorcan over the last couple of months. Valentino watches on in silence as Dani swipes up the file and leaves to presumably go to his own office, sighing as he glances up at the picture of Jorge Lorenzo in the middle of the pinboard, smirking as though he’s already won.  
  
Dani slumps down onto his chair in his office as he waits for his computer to boot up. He stares at the logo of the Spanish Intelligence Agency on his background, tapping his fingers against the side of his desk. The programme finally boots up after what seems like hours and Dani begins to go through the hours of footage. He finds Lorenzo sitting at the café, sipping on a cappuccino and looking like a man who is watching the world go by. But Dani can see through the facade. He watches every calculated stare that Lorenzo makes across the pavement, to the other customers who are simply enjoying a drink of their own. His eyes are fixed on Lorenzo as he throws down some money for the drink and ties his scarf around his neck before walking away. Dani pauses the footage to glance down at the report to find out where the body of the agent was found. It’s easy enough to hack into the cameras surrounding that area and he watches Lorenzo and the agent enter the alleyway, only for Lorenzo to emerge a few moments later. He follows the Majorcan through the cameras, but as though he can sense he is being watched, Lorenzo tries to disappear into the crowd. 

However, something catches his eye. It’s at that moment that he finds what he is looking for. Dani stops the tape and rewinds it, watching Lorenzo getting into a car. It’s normal enough, not anything special to arouse suspicion - a dark coloured Honda he discovers, after some digging on the zoomed in number plate. The smile pulls at his face, as he begins to run the car’s details through the database, making sure to check every exit route out of Vienna. However, he can feel his eyelids growing heavier and heavier as he glances at the screen, and eventually he slumps against the desk, exhausted. 

* * *

  
  
Jorge arrives in Maribor at around half past nine, and he manages to acquire a cheap hotel room from a hapless woman under pretenses of being an Italian businessman. He locks the door behind him and makes his way to the bathroom, immediately dumping the supplies he needs into the sink. He’s not one for changing his appearance every five minutes, but he had fancied a change and they always said that blondes have more fun. It had served its purpose, he decides as he begins to mix the dark hair dye in the bottle, sometimes change is necessary in order to survive.  
  
Half an hour later, he’s rinsed the product out and is examining his newly dark hair in the cracked mirror of the bathroom, swiping the droplets of water that run down his face. Towelling off, he collapses between the scratchy sheets but knows that sleep will not claim him, not when he’s replaying the evening over and over again in his mind. Unable to stop thinking, he collects his burner phone from his coat pocket. Accessing the Interpol confidential records website is easy enough for someone like him and he discovers that they have indeed found the body of the agent. He smiles widely as he logs off and pulls up his camera roll, slowly flicking through the photographs.  
  
They’re all of one person. The folder is named Dani Pedrosa.  
  
Jorge is rarely impressed by intelligence officers. In his experience, they’re all cut from the same cloth, they seem intelligent when placed amongst people who are ordinary and normal, but compared to other people who Jorge has met on his travels (and become very intimate with), they’re boring and tedious. Until one of them had managed to find out his information. He had kept it hidden well - or so he thought - and it only took him about two hours to find the person who had managed to do what none of the others had. On paper, Dani Pedrosa looked unremarkable - top in his class in university, graduated with a first in criminology and law, top marks in his exams. He speaks six languages, including his native Spanish and Catalan, Italian, English, French and German. It’s nothing compared to the array of languages that Jorge speaks, but it’s nevertheless impressive. He was born in Barcelona and he joined the CNI when he was fresh out of university. Jorge glances carefully over the dark hair and tanned skin, focusing on the almost onyx coloured eyes that seem to burn into him.  
  
He’s waited years for a worthy opponent, one who he knows won’t play the normal game like the others do. He thinks about the box he sent hours ago, wishing that he could see Dani’s reaction, wonders if it will be the same as the other times that he has done it.  
  
Sleep eventually claims him ten minutes later, his hand still wrapped around his phone, the face of Dani Pedrosa still visible on the screen. 

* * *

  
  
Dani is awoken by a slam on the desk. He jolts upright, hissing as he realises that he’s fallen asleep at his desk, his cheek presumably imprinted with the papers that he had been studying. Marc stands in front of him with a wide shit-eating grin on his face, holding out a box with Dani’s name printed on it.  
  
“Good morning sunshine,” He says, and Dani groans. Marc is relatively new to the programme, and although he’s a genius with computers, he does not possess a morning voice, or any kind of tone that is quiet - it’s one of the main reasons that he is not allowed to be on any calls in high security situations. “Someone’s got a secret admirer,”  
  
“It’s far too early to deal with you,” Dani murmurs as he accepts the box from the younger man.  
  
“Vale said you would say that,” Marc grins wider if that is possible. “So I brought you this,” He holds out a take-out cup of coffee and Dani honestly wants to kiss him right there and then. He all but rips the cup out of Marc’s hands with a muttered thank you and takes a sip. The coffee is exactly how he likes it and he can’t stop the gasp of pleasure bubble up from his lips as he leans back in his chair.  
  
Marc raises an eyebrow. “I’ll leave you to it,” He says as he leaves Dani’s office, allowing the older man’s attention to fall back on the box.  
  
Grabbing his letter opener, Dani slowly cuts the opening of the box and opens the flaps, to find a single red envelope inside and his heart drops. He knows exactly what that means. Glancing towards the blinds to ensure they are closed, he picks the envelope out of the box as though it’s a bomb. Slitting the paper open, he slides out the card. It’s ivory coloured, and thick, but the words, written intricately in red ink, are what Dani is interested in.  
  
_Hope you enjoyed my work. Maybe we will meet soon._ _  
_ _Love as always,_ _  
_ _J_  
  
He reads over the words several times, trying to read between the lines. Examining the box, he discovers that the postmark is Austrian and stamped from the evening before, long before the death ever occurred. Dani sighs as he opens up the bottom drawer of his desk and picks out another box, filled with the same thick ivory coloured cards as the one on his desk, all written in the same intricate hand, in red ink. The words change ever so slightly but the signature is always the same.  
  
_Love as always, J_ \- as though he’s writing to a lover. Dani slides the card into the box alongside the others and glances at his computer, expecting to find no results - but there is one. A dark coloured Honda with the same number plate as the one Lorenzo had gotten into going across the border into Slovenia at around nine pm at night. He raises an eyebrow - Valentino was right, Jorge Lorenzo was heading into a bordering country - but Dani wonders why he would be in plain sight, it’s as though he wanted to be seen.  
  
As he glances down at the cards written in red ink, he realises that Lorenzo _wanted_ to be seen - and he wants Dani to be the one to chase him. 

* * *

  
Jorge wakes up a little before dawn as the sun’s golden fingers are slowly threatening to peek between the thin layers of curtain. He never sleeps fitfully these days, it’s to be expected due to the life he leads. The sleep he does get is usually an hour or two here or there, with one eye trained on the other and a hand wrapped around his revolver underneath his pillow. He rarely dreams - but last night, he had dreamt of Dani Pedrosa. It’s strange really, to build a character based on nothing but photographs and statistics, but he has. It’s a dangerous game to play, to humanise Dani instead of seeing him as another nameless face who sits behind a desk waiting for him to slip up.  
  
He slowly pulls himself from the scratchy sheets, stretching a few times to ease the knots out of his lower back. He glances down at his watch to find the dial reading 6.10AM. It’s going to take an hour to reach the border of Slovenia and get into Croatia, and he’s certain that Dani and his team will have been tracking his car early this morning when the call finally came through about his hit. He dresses quickly, glancing ever so often at the darkened car park outside but it is silent. Sliding on a satin bomber jacket that he keeps for special occasions, Jorge pockets his car keys and saunters out of the door.  
  
It’s just after quarter past seven when he crosses the border into Croatia, but he barely notices. There’s little traffic on the roads at this time, and he’s able to relax a little and switch on the radio for a little while, managing to find a station that plays some English music. He barely gets a second glance as he makes his way over the border, throwing out a couple of euros for the toll charge. He knows it’s going to take about five hours for him to reach the coast in order to catch the ferry and he’s certain that they’ll be on his tail.  
  
He takes a sip from the bottle of water in the cup holder next to him and pulls on his aviator sunglasses, turning up the music. He’s ready for the chase. 

* * *

  
  
Dani doesn’t usually burst into Valentino’s office without knocking first, but the hit on Lorenzo’s car is the first real breakthrough they’ve had. “You were right, well sort of, he’s gone over the border in Slovenia-” He begins, only to stop in the doorway at the sight of Valentino and Marc kissing. Valentino wrenches his head away at the intrusion and his cheeks immediately stain pink at the sight of his colleague.  
  
“Can you give us a minute?” He says quietly, and Dani backs out of the room, apologising. He hadn’t seen that one coming, though to be fair, Valentino hasn’t been on any dates in the last few months. Dani assumed it was because of the case, but now he knows he was mistaken. Marc leaves Valentino’s office a few moments later and they exchange a glance for a moment before he disappears, presumably to return to his own desk. Dani opens the door a few moments later, finding Valentino fiddling with his tie.  
  
“Sorry about that,” Valentino’s voice is neutral.  
  
“So you two are a thing?” Dani raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t see that coming-”  
  
“And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else about it,” Valentino cuts in as he sinks into his chair. “It’s still a new thing and it’s private,”  
  
“My lips are sealed,” Dani says with a smile.  
  
“So what did you want?” Valentino pinches his temple between his fingers. He looks tired and Dani assumes that like himself, he’s had very little sleep. “I assume it’s important,”  
  
“You were right,” Dani hates the smug tiny smile that forms on Valentino’s lips at his words. “Lorenzo was spotted on the border at Slovenia last night, it all checks out it’s the same car that he used to flee Vienna,”  
  
Valentino rubs the stubble that is starting to form on his face. “But why change how he operates now? It doesn’t make any sense, he’s never done this before,”  
  
“Exactly,” Dani leans forward in his chair. “He’s telling us that he wants to find him this time, he’s finally ready for a real chase,”  
  
“You weren’t the only one who was digging. Marc found an interesting piece of information last night,” Valentino pauses for a moment to slip out a piece of paper. “We think that Lorenzo’s next target is somewhere in Malta. We’re not sure of exact details at this point but it makes sense given his movements. He’s likely to travel to the coast of Croatia and catch a ferry across Italy and head down towards Malta,”  
  
“So what’s the plan?”  
  
“We plan to send Maverick down to intercept him before he reaches his destination,”  
  
“No,” Dani shakes his head. “No, it should be me,”  
  
“Absolutely not,” Valentino cuts in before Dani can finish. “You’re too emotionally compromised to send for this job, Daniel,”  
  
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Valentino?” Dani spits.  
  
“You’re too involved with this case,” Valentino’s voice remains calm. “You spend all your extra time working on it, and it would be too much of a risk to lose an asset like you,”  
  
“What the fuck? You wouldn’t even know half the information you now have if it wasn’t for me-”  
  
Valentino sighs heavily and reaches into the bottom of his drawer, pulling out an envelope that looks familiar to Dani. It’s the same red one he receives ever so often, his name printed onto a sticker on the front. Dani can only watch in silence as Valentino slides out a thick ivory card and reads from it.  
  
“I’m beginning to wonder if you will ever catch me. Love, always. J,” He stops, sliding the card forward. “I know you’ve been receiving these for the last four months,”  
  
“You had no right to keep my mail from me, Valentino,” Dani snaps, glancing up at the older man.  
  
“When I have my best agent receiving love letters from a fucking assassin, it becomes a big fucking problem, Daniel,” Valentino hisses back. “You said you didn’t know him,”  
  
“I don’t!” Dani sneers back, shaking his head. “I don’t know him, he just started sending these notes to me a few months ago-”  
  
“He wrote _love_ , Dani. How can he love you if he doesn’t even know you?”  
  
“I don’t know!” Dani replies, tugging a hand through his hair. “I don’t know why he focused on me, maybe it’s because I was the one who finally figured out who he really was?”  
  
Valentino sighs. “Doesn’t matter either way. You will not be going to Malta,”  
  
Dani opens his mouth to argue but Valentino anticipates his action. “And if you continue to press me, I’ll take you off the case all together,”  
  
Dani says nothing else, and wordlessly pushes back his chair against the wooden floor. “It’s for your own good,” Valentino says to his back, but he ignores it, glancing once more at the pinboard, at Jorge’s face sitting in the middle of it, almost taunting him. 

* * *

  
  
Jorge reaches the coast at midday, a few minutes ahead of his schedule. He’s certain that it will not be long before they’re tailing him, he had made sure that the intel of his trip to Malta would reach the ears of those desperate to find him. He sinks back into the seat of his car, listening to his stomach grumble. He knows that he should get the next ferry, which departs in approximately ten minutes, but he’s not eaten since the night before. It’s easy enough to find a hole-in-the-wall cafe, a tiny rustic place that he’s sure he can blend with the other locals. His Croatian is a little rusty, but it’s enough to convince the waiter. He orders gazpacho, a call to his home country, and eats quickly as usual, his eyes trained around the people enjoying their lunch. They’re all locals, he’s certain - this part of Croatia is not one frequented by tourists - but he still has to be on his guard. He needs to ensure that he actually gets to Malta before he’s caught. After all, he hasn’t gone through this fuss for nothing.  
  
He throws down his money by the side of the table and shrugs on his jacket. He never asks for the bill - it’s an unnecessary interaction that he can avoid. Eyewitnesses are more likely to remember you if they meet you more than once. He’s thankful that he has very few distinguishing features, it’s the reason he has no tattoos - it’s harder to pin someone down if they are a blank canvas. The only feature he has that he has no control over is the missing tip of his left ring finger. It was an unfortunate accident in Russia that had led to the injury, and a sobering reminder to him to always make sure he had a back-up plan. Jorge walks towards his car slowly, checking around him for anyone watching but he finds nobody. He slides into the driver’s seat, glancing around one last time before he heads over to the ferry port. He needs to get to Italy before dark to take care of one last job.

* * *

  
  
Dani stays in his office for the remainder of the day, poring over the large file on Jorge Lorenzo. He’s not sure why - he knows everything there is to know about the man. Born in Majorca on 4th May 1987, orphaned at a young age, and a childhood filled with neglect. Disappeared from records at the age of 20 upon being released from prison for the murder of an ex boyfriend and reported to have joined a criminal organisation. His skills are second to none - interrogation in the USA, weapons training in Kiev, sniper and toxicology in Volgograd, lock picking in London and decoding and communications in Paris. It’s an impressive enough CV, and Dani knows that if Jorge had wanted to work for the Secret Service, he would have no problem at all getting in. But he knows that Jorge Lorenzo doesn’t want to do things for the greater good, to protect his country and the crown. He has always lived by his own rules - it’s something that Dani wishes he could do for himself - but he feels tied by the rules and regulations.  
  
“Dani,” Valentino’s voice cuts through his thoughts and he glances up to see the older man standing in front of his desk. “Just informing you that Vinales has been dispatched to Croatia. He should arrive within the next two hours,”  
  
“He will have left Croatia by then, and you know it,” Dani mutters, folding his arms.  
  
Valentino purses his lips. “There’s every chance that he could-”  
  
“No, there isn’t. He stayed somewhere in Slovenia last night, presumably on the border. Depending on the ferry port he uses, he’s presumably going to head through Croatia and go towards the coast. It’s less risk than to drive through the entirety of Northern Italy on his way down to Malta,”  
  
“We need to follow the trail this time, Dani. It’s there for a reason,”  
  
“That’s true. But where did this intel that he was going to Malta come from? You don’t think it’s strange that we’ve always been a step behind him all this time and now suddenly, we magically happen to know where he is heading to?”  
  
Valentino sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t want to do this, Dani, but go home for the rest of the day. I’m pulling you off the case,”  
  
“You can’t do that! It’s my case,”  
  
“Actually, it’s _my_ case, Pedrosa. And as your superior, I’m ordering you to go home for the remainder of the day. You’ve been here since 1AM and you’ve had only a few hours sleep in that time. You need to rest and recharge, but for now, I have to take you off the case,”  
  
“Fine,” Dani hisses, standing up to grab his jacket from the rack. “Fine,”  
  
“You’ll thank me later,” Valentino calls out, but Dani is already marching towards the door to the department, fury igniting every bone in his body.  
  
The fury doesn’t subside even when he returns back to his apartment on the outskirts of Madrid and collapses into his bed. Curling up in the cold sheets of his bed, he finally allows himself to drift away, but all of his dreams are filled with dark green eyes and the same twisted sheets. 

* * *

  
  
Jorge arrives a little behind schedule at around seven in the evening, but he’s certain that he can make the time up. He retrieves his burner phone and glances at his messages - he’s been sent the coordinates of the hotel where his target is staying, and proceeds there slowly, ensuring that he is not followed. He’s sure that Dani’s superior will have spotted him in Croatia by now and has sent an agent there to dig up the breadcrumbs. He slips on his leather jacket and his widest grin as he approaches the girl at the check-in desk.  
  
“Welcome to SeePort Hotel, are you checking in today Sir?” Her tone is professional enough, but he can see the way that she looks at him with interest.  
  
Jorge leans on the desk. “ Yes, I’m just here for one night. I have a reservation,”  
  
“Name?” The girl asks with a smile.  
  
“Dani Pedrosa,”  
  
The girl’s attention is pulled towards her computer for a few moments, whilst she pulls up the records and before she can ask for the identification, he slides a Spanish passport over the desk. He had acquired it from an old friend a few weeks ago in preparation - it was easy enough to adjust the records to make himself Daniel Pedrosa Ramal. If this didn’t bring Dani searching for him, nothing would, he reasons as she hands back the ID, their fingers brushing for a moment.  
  
“Room 26, Mr Pedrosa,”  
  
His smile grows wider as she hands him the keys to his room and he leaves the reception area and heads towards his room. Once he enters, Jorge drops his bag to the floor and pulls out everything he needs, ready for the job at hand. He checks his phone again, and finds that his mark is already at the club and he’s already a few drinks in. This should make the job easier. Slipping into a silky shirt and his tightest jeans, Jorge glances at himself in the mirror for a moment, his hand brushing lightly through his hair. Maybe he should have kept the blonde, he knows how much older men like a blonde twink, and Alberto Puig is no exception. He slips the knife into his waistband and his smallest revolver into his shoes, examining himself one last time before he leaves the room to head towards the nightclub.   
  
Jorge spots his target within moments of entering the club, surrounded by people, a sure sign of his wealth. He’s already drunk if his glassy, unfocused gaze and the numerous expensive whisky bottles on the table are anything to go by. Getting up close and personal with the mark is Jorge’s favourite thing to do on the job, he loves watching as they hopelessly give up every piece of their trust to him. He moves in, with a wide smile on his face.  
  
“Hello, I’m Dani,” He purrs into the ear and he smiles as he watches the dark eyes slowly drink him in, dancing down the shirt that Jorge has purposely unbuttoned to show off his tanned skin.  
  
Alberto is particularly easy to manipulate, and Jorge is able to take him away from the crowd within about an hour. His hands slowly brush around Jorge’s collarbone in the taxi on the way back to the hotel and Jorge plays up to it, it’s easy enough to pretend that he is some helpless drunken young boy and that is out of his depth. He manages to tug Alberto into his room, smiling as the older man’s unfocused hands begin to slowly slide down his shirt away from his skin.  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Alberto begins, but the rest of the words die out. He falls like a puppet with its strings cut, as Jorge glances down with a triumphant smile on his face, the small dagger still clutched in his hand.  
  
“You deserved that,” Jorge whispers as he wipes away the blood that has splattered across his cheekbone. He steps over the lifeless body of the older man and collects his belongings wordlessly, before he leaves as quickly as he arrived. He knows that the body will not be found until the morning, and that gives him the time he needs to leave without a fuss. 

* * *

  
  
Dani is awoken again by the sound of his phone blaring out somewhere next to his bedside table. Groaning under his breath, he glances at the clock next to his bed. He doesn’t remember what time he fell asleep but it’s now 8:03AM. Valentino’s codename is on the display of his phone, and while he’s angry at his boss for undermining every decision he has wanted to make, Valentino rarely calls unless it’s important.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Daniel, I need you to come in immediately,” Valentino’s tone is no-nonsense.  
  
Dani scratches his eye. It’s not often that he gets the full name treatment from the older man, it must be serious. “What? Have you found him?”  
  
“Just get here as quickly as you can,” Valentino gives nothing else away, and Dani’s questions are answered with a dial tone.  
  
He’s back at the office within fifteen minutes of receiving the call, dressed in another shirt that he is certain has not been washed. Valentino is waiting for him when he arrives, the expression on his face is grim and he remains silent as Dani throws out questions, ignoring them all and pointing to the chair opposite. “You were right, he was in Ancona last night. We received reports this morning of a death in a hotel room,” He slides over another manila folder. “Alberto Puig was the hit,”  
  
“The politician?”  
  
Valentino nods. “He was stabbed seven times, and died almost instantly. It’s not his signature but we know it was him,”  
  
“How so?”  
  
Valentino pulls up some photographs. “This is him checking in later that night at around eight pm, surveillance picks up Lorenzo and Puig returning to the hotel room that Lorenzo ordered about an hour later. Lorenzo leave ten minutes later and Puig never comes back down to the lobby area, he was found this morning by the cleaning staff,”  
  
Dani glances over the images of Jorge Lorenzo leaning over the desk, wearing his leather jacket with a small smile on his lips. His hair is once again dark, and Dani wonders when he changed it. “Intended hit?”  
  
“Presumably,” Valentino nods. “But there’s another problem-”  
  
“What?” Dani raises an eyebrow.  
  
Valentino says nothing as he slides out the final piece of paper - it’s a booking confirmation form and attached is a photocopied photograph of a passport. “He used your name to book the hotel room,”  
  
Dani glances down at the paper, seeing his own full name on the passport and the form, but he remains silent.  
  
“Why would he do that? Why would he use your name and not one of his aliases?”  
  
“Because he wants my attention,” Dani finally glances up at Valentino. “You have to let me go to Malta,”  
  
“I can’t do that, Dani. Even I don’t have the clearance to send you, I’d have to speak to Lin to authorise it-”  
  
Dani picks up the phone and holds it out to Valentino. “So call him,”  
  
Valentino sighs and Dani notices how tired he looks, taking in the deep dark circles that seem to have taken up permanent residence under the older man’s eyes. “Are you sure about this? He will kill you,”  
  
“He won’t,” Dani replies.  
  
“I hope you’re right,” Valentino murmurs as he takes the receiver from Dani’s hand, the younger man pretends not to notice Valentino’s gaze fixed on the photographs of Alberto’s body, bloodied and battered by Jorge’s hand. 

* * *

  
  
Jorge eventually stops driving when he reaches Potenza. He knows he’s still a good twelve hours travel time away from Malta, but the fatigue is beginning to burn. He has had a couple of brief breaks on the way down, stopping at a couple of petrol stations for some snacks and coffee. He uses another one of his aliases to check into a crappy run-down hotel off the track in the early hours of the morning. It’s cash in hand, and there’s no ID check. He feels the anxiety leave his bones as he falls onto the bed, his hand wrapping around his revolver. It will not be long now, until he knows he must give up the chase. He’s aware that the CNI have sent another agent to Croatia - it wasn’t too difficult to hack into the mainframe and pull up the flight records to find him. He’s disappointed to say the least, but he expected it.  
  
He snatches a few hours of sleep and for the first time in months, he awakens not to the dawn but to the lull of people going about their daily business. Jorge checks his watch and discovers it’’s just after ten in the morning, longer than he anticipated he would rest for. He knows that by now, the CNI will be aware of what he had done in Ancona but he hacks into the mainframe again just to be certain - it’s not difficult for him to decrypt the files and he’s pleased to note that they had discovered his new aliases. Jorge then turns his attention to the air traffic database, and combs through the list of passengers on every available flight to Malta from Barcelona and all surrounding areas, but Dani isn’t on any of the lists. Sighing heavily, he tucks his phone away and jumps in the shower.  
  
The warm water feels good against his skin, and he can’t stop his thoughts from turning to Dani once again. He tries to push them away, focusing on untangling the knots out of his hair but the familiar pair of dark brown eyes seem to haunt him everytime he closes his eyes. After he’s finished rinsing away the traces of blood that have somehow remained underneath his fingernails, Jorge dries himself off and slips into another one of his less adventurous outfits. He’s saving his most outrageous jacket for when Dani finally comes to Malta. Pocketing his keys and his gun, he packs up the remainder of his belongings and leaves the hotel. It will take around four hours to drive down to Siderno on the coast of Italy. From there, it’s another four hours to Sicily before the last stretch of taking the ferry across to Malta. The journey is almost over, he thinks as he glances up at the rosary beads entwined around the mirror. 

* * *

  
  
Dani stands in front of Lin, silently. It’s been about two hours since he had been called in by Valentino, and though he’s met with his boss’s boss a few times, he still feels slightly uncomfortable standing in front of him. “Valentino tells me that you wish to pursue Lorenzo yourself,” Lin says quietly, signalling for Dani to sit down.  
  
“He will kill every agent that you send after him,” Dani replies as he sinks into the chair. “How many people’s blood are you willing to ignore on your hands before you realise that it’s me that he wants?”  
  
“And you can understand why I’m not at liberty to give into the demands of a dangerous and unhinged assassin,”  
  
Dani sighs, leaning back on his chair. “So you’ll just send everyone else until there’s nobody left? Just so he doesn’t get what he wants,”  
  
“You’ve done your duty, Daniel. You managed to find out information that I’m sure he thought he had hidden well, but this isn’t your game anymore -”  
  
“He used my name to forge another identity for himself and left said identity at the crime scene of a murdered politician,” Dani cuts in sharply. “I’d say it’s still very much my game. If you send Maverick or any other agent to Malta, he will leave, I guarantee it,”  
  
Lin purses his lips and Dani senses the opportunity. “He’s never done anything like this before, he’s never left an obvious trail of breadcrumbs for us to follow. If you send someone else, you’ve as good as lost him,”  
  
“Very well,” Lin nods. “You may leave, I need to consider all our options,”  
  
Dani rises from the chair silently. His hand is on the handle of the door when Lin leaves him with some food for thought. “You know he will never stop Daniel. His entire life is built on destruction and death, you cannot change those things about a person, it’s how he is,”  
  
“I know,” Dani says quietly. “Good day, Sir,”  
  
He’s called into Valentino’s office an hour later. “I don’t know what you said to him,” The older man begins. “But he has authorised you to go to Malta,”  
  
Dani tries not to smirk triumphantly as Valentino slides the tickets across the desk. “We anticipate that he will be somewhere in Southern Italy at the moment, but he should be in Malta by tomorrow morning. Your flight leaves in eight hours,”  
  
Dani nods, swiping up the tickets. “You won’t regret this,”  
  
“I hope not,” Valentino murmurs back quietly. 

* * *

  
  
When he reaches Siderno four hours later, Jorge checks the air passenger lists one last time. It’s been a tiring journey down to the coast, and he’s only stopped a few times along the way to pick up some essentials. He’s booked a table at his favourite restaurant in Malta in preparation, but he needs to be certain that Dani has taken the bait. 

_Ramal Pedrosa, D._ stares back at him amongst the other names, and he grins widely - the ticket was booked a few hours ago, and is due to land at 8pm tonight. Jorge checks his watch, the time is around two in the afternoon so he has just about enough time to get to Malta himself and prepare for Dani’s arrival. The drive through Sicily is easy enough and he swears that he breaks about fifty speed laws on his race to get down to Pozzallo. His thoughts focus solely on Dani, and his heart feels like it’s going to push itself out of his ribcage as he draws nearer to the harbour. When he had started this cat and mouse chase, he never wanted it to end - but he is tired of constantly looking over his shoulder. He wants to meet the man that forced his way into his identification files, who managed to find out everything from his birthplace to his parent’s names. He wants to meet the man who is his equal.  
  
Jorge dumps the car in Pozzallo. It’s more logical to do so, it has served its purpose in allowing Dani to track him this far but is no longer required. Dani is on his way, so there’s no longer a need for the car to be used as a tracking device. He ends up finding some old Italian fisherman to take him across to Malta, which cuts the time in half and reduces the amount of people that could potentially ruin his plans. The fisherman readily takes the wad of crisp euro notes wordlessly from Jorge, and invites him into his boat. The only sound after that, is that of the engine starting up.  
  
A sense of trepidation begins to grip him as he glances across at the shoreline of Malta growing closer and closer, a visual representation of the cat and mouse game that is slowly coming to an end. Jorge goes over the preparations one last time in his head as the buildings that seem to be engraved into the very earth around Valletta grow nearer. He has not been to Malta for years, but he is glad to return. As an island, it reminds him of his own home back in Majorca - a place in which identity is iron-forged in the small community, a place that is proud of its heritage and for standing alone in enemy waters. It’s around seven pm when Jorge finally sets foot in the harbour of Valletta. He bids farewell to the fisherman in fluent Italian before he heads over to the hotel that he has selected, he has a lot of work to do in the next two hours before Dani arrives. 

* * *

  
  
Dani has never been more thankful to finally get off a plane - it’s been a while since he has travelled anywhere, and he’s not taken any holiday over the past few months, wanting to devote his attention to the case and nothing else. His mind was in overdrive the entire time he was trying to wile away the hour or two before they boarded the plane, right up to the moment that they touched down in Malta. It’s around eight in the evening, and he’s been instructed to head to the hotel that has been booked in Valletta and await further orders. His phone is strangely devoid of any information when he switches it back on, there’s no messages from Valentino or anyone back at the office. He’s not sure if it is a good thing or a bad one, but he chooses to focus on the former as he collects his belongings. Going through security and to collect his car are both a necessary evil, but thankfully, the border control don’t spare a second glance at his passport. With his car acquired, he programmes the hotel address into the sat nav and prepares to head out towards Valletta.  
  
The journey towards the hotel and the check-in process are fairly tedious, and Dani is thankful to finally open the door to his room, only to stop in the doorway. There’s a large box sitting on his bed, tied up with a blood-red bow. Dropping his bag to the floor, Dani pulls up his shirt sleeves and slowly rips open the tab of the box, his fingers closing around a red envelope. He can feel his heart slamming against his ribcage as he carefully undoes the tab and pulls out another thick ivory card.  
  
_I’ve been waiting for you. Meet me at Pappanis at 9pm. Dress nice._ _  
_ _Love, as always._ _  
_ _J_  
  
Dani glances at his watch, it’s half past eight. He knows that he should call ahead, back to Valentino before he risks going out to dinner with an assassin, but he knows there’s no time - and meeting in a restaurant won’t be too dangerous, he reasons. Dani takes a quick shower and dresses in a clean shirt and navy trousers, he’s never been one for interesting and fancy clothes, and he’s packed very little formal wear so it will have to do. Sliding in his jacket, he glances at himself in the mirror trying to coax his thick, dark hair in something that doesn’t scream overworked and overpaid intelligence officer but he has to cede defeat in the end, sliding his gun into the waistband of his trousers.  
  
With his heart thundering, he makes his way to the restaurant at around five minutes to nine. Pushing open the door, the waiter glances at him once.  
  
“Mr Pedrosa?” He enquires, to which Dani nods.  
  
Dani is led wordlessly to the back of the restaurant and finally makes eye contact with the man that he has been chasing for months. Jorge Lorenzo looks even more breathtaking in person, he notes, his hair looks soft and dark, and he’s wearing a crisp white shirt underneath what appears to be a sparkly black dinner jacket. Dark green eyes survey him as the waiter hands him a menu and then disappears off to some other corner.  
  
“Daniel Pedrosa,” Jorge finally speaks. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” Dani can hear the Spanish twang to his accent, despite his attempts to eradicate it.  
  
“Call me Dani,”  
  
There’s a flicker of a smirk on the assassin’s lips. “Very well,”  
  
“Why did you invite me here? It’s not your usual go-to-place,” Dani asks, glancing around the restaurant - it’s pleasant enough, small and cosy, all rustic furniture, but the candles that have been lit on every table are throwing off a more romantic vibe. Jorge watches him carefully, the smile still threatening to curl over his lips, his head cocked as though he is reading Dani’s thoughts. 

“I wanted our first meeting to be memorable,” Jorge says slowly. “And you are far too interesting to kill, darling,”  
  
Dani raises his eyebrow at the pet name. “Why now? Why have you decided now is the right time for you to be caught?”  
  
There’s a flicker of something in Jorge’s eyes but it disappears as quickly as it appears. “I’ve chosen red wine, I hope it is to your liking,” He smiles as the waiter brings over the bottle silently along with two glasses. Silence hangs between the two men, interrupted only by the sound of the cork popping. Jorge takes a sip from his filled wine glass before he sets the glass to one side. “It is safe to drink. Poison is such an unimaginative way to kill someone,” He pauses. “And darling? Please put the gun away,”  
  
Dani slowly lowers his gun from the position he had been holding it in underneath the table, before he slowly picks up his glass, eyeing it carefully. He takes a small sip and places it back down on the table. “So why now?”  
  
“I’m bored,” Jorge says, leaning forward. “This life that I have led, it was exciting at first, there truly is nothing that interests me about it anymore. I don’t want anything from this life anymore, I don’t feel anything, I’m just numb-”  
  
Dani bites his lip. He had never expected to be sitting in a romantic restaurant opposite a man who has a kill count sheet longer than most serial killers, with said man opening his true self to him. “Why? Why do you feel that way?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Jorge shrugs, taking another sip of his wine.  
  
“You don’t feel anything?”  
  
“I feel things when I think about you,” Jorge admits, cocking his head slightly, his dark green eyes burning in Dani. “That’s the only time I felt alive, when I had your attention,”  
  
Dani watches as the mask falls back down again over Jorge’s features and downs the rest of his wine. He wants to ask Jorge so many questions, but he’s not sure that he would get any sort of truth from Jorge’s answers at the moment. Jorge orders for them both, some sort of ravioli dish that Dani ends up pushing around his plate, unable to keep his eyes off Jorge. He still can’t believe that the man exists -  
  
“Oh, I’m very real, my love,” Jorge smirks, and Dani blushes, realising that he’s said his thoughts out loud. “I can show you how real I can be,”  
  
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, I doubt my boss would be happy if he found out that I was in a restaurant with one of Europe’s most dangerous men, eating dinner whilst he flirts with me incessantly,”  
  
Jorge grins. “So he doesn’t know about this meeting?”  
  
Dani bites down on his lip, cursing himself internally. He’s slipped up, and potentially put himself at the mercy of a man who now knows that he’s walked into this meeting without any back up. “It’s not like you to bend the rules,” Jorge continues, and Dani can feel his cheeks burn.  
  
“You don’t know anything about me,”  
  
“Don’t I?” Jorge raises his eyebrow. “I know things about you that are not in your personnel folder - about your brother dying made you want to help others, how you married Casey but he walked out on you because he couldn’t handle your workload and how you were married to your job-”  
  
“Stop it,” Dani hisses. “How do you know that?”  
  
“I told you, Dani. You interest me,” Jorge is about to elaborate when he stops. “You told me that you came alone,”  
  
“I did,” Dani replies.  
  
Jorge’s eyes narrow. “This was a set up. Two agents have just come through the door, I’m certain there’s another two waiting outside for me,”  
  
“I didn’t know-” Dani murmurs out, watching as Jorge slips on a sequin covered jacket with a tiger on the back. “Jorge, I didn’t know,” Dani tries again, grabbing hold of the Majorcan’s wrist.  
  
Green eyes survey him for a moment as though trying to decide if he’s telling the truth, before Jorge’s hand curls around his own, tugging him to the back door. Dani can only watch on as he all but dragged out of the back entrance by Jorge, a gun finding itself into his free hand. Thankfully, they haven’t managed to guard the back entrance yet, possibly by virtue of it being practically hidden. Dani is tugged along alleyway after alleyway, the only sound is that of his own heavy breathing, coupled with Jorge’s cat-like footsteps. Jorge is muttering about trackers, and despite Dani’s insistence that he is not carrying one, Jorge still finds it appropriate to search through everywhere that he could possibly harbour one before he pauses on Dani’s wristwatch.  
  
“There’s a red light on your watch,” He says quietly. Dani glances down, and Jorge is right - it’s barely noticeable but it’s there, a dull red minuscule light flashing on the side of his Rolex. Jorge’s warm fingers curl around his wrist, and he glances up at Dani for a moment, holding his gaze. He slowly unbuckles the watch from Dani’s wrist and they both watch it fall onto the cobbles, the face shattering.  
  
Dani finds himself forced up against the nearest wall, the green eyes almost black as Jorge’s elbow sinks into his neck, threatening to cut off his oxygen. “Did you know that you were being followed?”  
  
Fear grips his chest, it’s the first time he’s ever felt out of his element. He’s in a narrow alleyway with an assassin’s elbow against his neck. He tries to take a deep breath and Jorge’s elbow sinks in further. Dani shakes his head, trying to gasp for air. “I didn’t know-”  
  
Jorge cocks his head slightly as though he’s surveying Dani’s response, before he slowly loosens his grip on the shorter man. Dani takes a deep breath of air before Jorge shoves him back up against the wall and claims his lips for his own. Jorge’s kiss is all fear and teeth, but Dani finds himself melting into the kiss, allowing his guard to drop for a moment. Jorge tastes of red wine and blood, but Dani finds himself not caring as his hands find themselves fisting in the back of Jorge’s head, pulling him closer.  
  
They eventually pull apart, panting as brown eyes lock on green.  
  
“So what now?” Dani is the first to break the silence.  
  
“I don’t know. When I try to think of my future, I see your face over and over again. It’s rather strange,” Jorge whispers, his voice strangely soft. “But I wonder if I’ve awakened this monster within you,”  
  
“I think I wanted you to encourage this side of me,” Dani replies, worrying his lip. He can still taste Jorge on his mouth.  
  
“Well, then you have to make the decision, Dani. To leave me alone, or to run away with me,” Jorge says, holding out his hand.  
  
Dani glances at it, taking in the left ring finger, missing the tip, a reminder of the danger that Jorge puts himself in on a regular basis, and silently reaches out for Jorge’s outstretched hand. 


End file.
